


Facing Fear

by aphaire



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Behemoth!Gladio, Carbuncle!Noctis, Claustrophobia, Coeurl!Ignis, Creature Fic, Dragon!Prompto, M/M, Promnis Big Bang 2019, Terrorism, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21513847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphaire/pseuds/aphaire
Summary: Prompto rolled over, laying his feet across Gladio. “Yeah, but what if I get something like a worm? What if I'm a worm, Gladio?”“You're not going to be a worm,” Gladio said. “Probably.”“Probably,” Noctis agreed, still not looking up from his phone.---Everyone has an animal that reflects their innermost selves. Those who swear themselves into the King's military have the privilege of learning what that animal is, gaining abilities and skills related to it. Some are crows, facing the world with a cunning intelligence and wind under their wings; others are wolves, showing sharp loyalty and even sharper teeth; and others still are mice, quick and flighty and wonderful spies.Prompto is a dragon, surprising everyone, including himself.(Written for the Promnis Big Bang 2019)
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 49
Kudos: 280
Collections: 2019 Promnis Big Bang





	1. There are Things About Me that Even I Don't Know

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Long time no see. This fic is part of the Promnis Big Bang 2019! Thank you to my wonderful and patient beta [teneniel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teneniel/pseuds/Teneniel), and special thanks to the wonderful artist who provided a drawing for this fic, dragon_cat_arts! You can find them on [twitter](https://twitter.com/dragon_cat_arts) or [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/dragon_cat_arts/).

“I'm gonna die,” Prompto whined, face buried in a throw pillow.

He was laying facedown on Noct’s futon, and the world around him was gentle and quiet—the news was playing quietly on the TV, a story about Insomnian nationalists that switched to a story about a lost kitten being returned home; evening light streamed in from the windows, diffused by the clouds; Ignis and Gladio were chatting idly in the kitchen, where the sound of dishes being cleaned could be heard over the tap-tap-tap of Noctis playing on his phone.

Prompto wished the inside of his mind was so peaceful. He was staring down a cliff with the wind on his back. He was listening to the screech of tires before a crash. He was on two hours of sleep and about to write a history exam.

Prompto was going to find out who he really was, tomorrow. And everyone in the Citadel was going to see, too.

He could barf.

“Hm.” Noctis continued playing on his phone as if Prompto's life weren't currently ending. “Don't do that at my house,” he said finally. “I don't wanna clean up the body.”

Prompto made pained noises. “Noct, you're so mean. I'm literally dying here. Where's the sympathy?”

“Where's the sympathy for me?” He leaned over to poke Prompto's cheek from his chair, not looking away from his phone (and nearly poking Prompto’s eye because of it). “Your anxiety is giving  _ me _ anxiety. It's terrible.”

“Yeah well, imagine how I feel!”

“I don't have to, that's the problem.”

Prompto flinched a little, and gave Noctis his patent ‘whoops’ cringe. “Right, sorry. I’ll try to tone it down a bit.”

“It’s fine, dude,” Noctis said.

Prompto heard footsteps come over from the kitchen, where the sounds and smells of Ignis’ cooking made Prompto feel marginally better. Like he was at home. “Even I can practically feel it, and I'm no psychic,” Gladio said from above him. Prompto looked up to see him leaning on the back of the futon, smirking. “What's the matter, kid? You got through the hard part—getting accepted into the Crownsguard. The rest is easy.”

Prompto groaned, burying his face back into the pillow. “Easy for you to say,” he complained into it. “You're buff as hell. Of course you’d get a cool Reflection.”

Gladio laughed. “Yeah, well, I got something cool because  _ I'm  _ cool.” He walked around the couch, shoving Prompto's legs off before falling into their place. “You can't change what you get, anyway, so don't worry about it. If you wanted to beg the Astrals to change your results, you're too late now.”

Prompto rolled over, laying his feet across Gladio. “Yeah, but what if I get something like a worm? What if I'm a worm, Gladio?”

“You're not going to be a worm,” Gladio said. “Probably.”

“Probably,” Noctis agreed, still not looking up from his phone.

“You both suck at comforting,” Prompto complained. He let his head fall back onto the armrest and called towards the kitchen. “Iggy, they suck at comforting. Come here and do it better.”

Ignis’ voice came from the kitchen, alongside the sink running. “Worms are hard workers who do important work to improve the environment. There's nothing wrong with being a worm.”

Prompto could cry. “That's not what I wanted to hear either.”

Ignis came out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a small towel. He was smiling slightly. “You won't be a worm, Prompto. You are far too active and full of personality for that.”

Prompto dramatically draped his arms over his face to hide his blush. “Thanks, man. That's what I wanted to hear.”

“Happy to help,” Ignis said.

The Game Over song played on Noct's phone, and he lowered it with a sigh. “Yeah,” he tossed his phone onto the coffee table lazily, “you'll be fine. You'll probably be like, a golden retriever or something.” 

“We should take bets,” Gladio suggested. “I'd put my money on chocobo.”

“Fuck dude, that's no fair,” Noctis said. “Chocobo’s totally gonna win.”

“It’s an apt guess,” Ignis agreed.

Prompto sat up with wide eyes, looking at his friends' faces. “You guys really think I'm gonna be a chocobo?”

Gladio snorted. “You really so excited for that?”

Prompto shoved his shoulder. “Dude! Why are you saying that like it's funny? Chocobos are awesome!”

Ignis leaned his forearms against the back of the couch, between Prompto and Gladio, twisting the dish towel between his hands. “Chocobos are renowned for their intelligence and loyalty. A chocobo is a wonderful thing to be.”

Prompto shot a smile at Ignis before turning victorious eyes on Gladio. “See! Iggy knows what's up. It would be  _ so  _ good.”

“Hm, yeah, it would be pretty nice,” Noctis said thoughtfully. “We'd always have a ride with us.”

Prompto snorted. “I'm not letting you  _ ride _ me, dude.”

Noctis sighed loudly, sinking into his chair. “Then what's the fucking point?”

Prompto laughed, kicking his leg. “I don't know, man! We can't all be magic like you guys.”

“ _ I'm _ not magic,” Gladio said. 

"Oh shut up, Gladio."

Gladio grinned. “Behemoths are just big. No elemental powers or nothin’.”

“Gladio.” Prompto rolled his eyes. “You turn into a several storey tall monster. You were already strong before, but now you're inhumanely strong. Like, you're practically a God, man.”

Gladio hummed nonchalantly. "Everyone gets stronger after the ceremony.”

“Gladio. Y Gladio please.” He put his hand on the Shield’s arm. “There's a difference between some guy manifesting as a dog and getting sharper teeth, and someone getting the strength of a fucking Behemoth packed into their tiny body.”

Gladio threw his head back and laughed. “I'm not  _ that _ strong—”

“Yeah, no, you are.” Noctis rolled his eyes. “He’s got you there, Gladio.”

“I’m really not—”

Ignis swatted him with the towel. “Gladio, stop humble bragging.”

Gladio laughed again. “Fine! Fine. But really,” he elbowed Prompto, “you’d be down to be a chocobo? You’re cool with that?”

Prompto’s smile faded a bit. Okay, he was actually pretty okay with the idea of being a chocobo, overall. It would pretty good, for him. A chocobo was better than a lot of things—like worms, or wasps, or beetles, or...any bug, really. There were so many terrible, lame things he was probably going to end up being; a chocobo would be better than any of that.

But chocobos weren't anything compared to his friends’ manifestations. Noctis, the Carbuncle—the animal embodiment of sympathy and magic gave Noctis the ability to read and feel others’ emotions. Ignis, the Elder Coeurl—strong, electric, and able to send out psychic waves for various purposes, it showed Ignis’ strength and intelligence. Gladio, the Behemoth—huge, powerful, territorial and independent, it represented his strength, his sense of purpose, and his ability to protect.

But...even if Prompto got lucky enough to he a chocobo, what would that represent? What strengths would that designation improve? Gladio was super strong before, but after his spirit was released and the Behemoth strength took over, he became inhumanely strong. Both Ignis and Noctis could read emotions, read rooms, and even affect people's moods with their minds—all excellent traits for negotiators and rulers. Plus Ignis got even more agile, and Noctis’ magic got stronger.

So what about a chocobo? They were good at running, so maybe his endurance would improve? But...how much help would that really be? How could he possibly keep up with them, and keep himself from weighing them down?

He just had to accept the fact that no matter what he got, no matter what he did, he wasn’t going to shine as bright as them. He was just some random plebe, after all. He couldn’t expect anything more.

So what Prompto said was “Yeah,” as brightly as he could, because frankly, he shouldn't expect anything better than a chocobo. “Chocobos are the best, man. They’re like, way better than being a slug or something.”

Gladio shrugged. “If you say so. I'm sure you'll get something you're happy with, though.”

“I'm certain, as well.” There was a smile in Ignis' voice, so Prompto peered up at him to see it. “You'll be something wonderful.”

Uh oh, looking was a mistake. Ignis' smile was too soft, too cute, Prompto was going to have a breakdown between it and the compliment. Fuck. Just say something, respond to him. Don’t think about how pretty his smile is, Prompto. Don’t think gay thoughts. Don’t do it. Just say a normal response. Normal words. Oh god his mouth had been hanging open this entire time,  _ say something before it's weird— _

Noctis groaned, kicking Prompto's leg. “God, moving on. Is food done?”

Prompto shut his mouth and shot Noctis a look that he hoped said both 'Thank you' and 'sorry'. Noctis didn’t need to deal with all of Prompto’s dumb emotions on top of his own—especially the stupid mushy gay ones directed at his advisor-slash-brother.

“It's cooling, but I suppose we could begin migrating to the kitchen to eat it.” Ignis stood straight again. “Prompto, would you like to help set out the dishes?”

Prompto jumped to his feet, smiling brightly. “Sure thing!”

Following Ignis into the kitchen, he noticed Noctis staring after him. When their eyes met, Noctis made a point to roll his dramatically. Gladio started turning too, and Prompto hurried after Ignis before any more faces could be made at him.

He didn't deserve this. His crush wasn't  _ that _ bad. It couldn't possibly be, since Ignis hadn't noticed it yet.

* * *

Dinner was wonderful, as always. Prompto made sure to tell Ignis so, like always. And as always, Ignis accepted his compliments with a grace that Prompto severely lacked.

Ignis was driving Prompto home, insisting that he'd get back faster in a car than in transit, and that Prompto should get as much sleep as he could for tomorrow. He also pointed out that it was raining, which meant that transit would suck more ass than usual—though Ignis didn’t use those exact words.

Both of Ignis' points were good, but Prompto mostly accepted the offer for a ride because that this night could have been the last normal night he had with his friends. The last night before it was revealed he's actually a naked mole rat who couldn't be trusted. Or a snake. Or a parasite. Or—

A few more normal hours would be nice.

But of course, the drive home turned out to not be very normal. Prompto's dumb nerves had to go and make him act weird—quieter, and even more awkward than usual—and smart ol’ perceptive Ignis noticed.

He mentioned it after he dropped Gladio off at the Amicitia estate.

“You're still worried,” Ignis stated. Not a question, but a fact.

“Ehh,” Prompto scratched the back of his head, looking out the window at the blurry shapes of the city, “I guess? It's not too bad.”

“I believe you're lying to me.”

And then he remembered. “O-oh. You're reading my emotions, aren't you?” He tried to ignore the way his anxiety flared up—gods, Ignis can probably feel that too, stop it—

“No,” Ignis said gently. “No, I don’t use my abilities around Noctis, remember?”

He did. Some sort of psychic feedback loop happened between them, and it caused a lot of headaches apparently.

“But Noctis isn't here,” Prompto pointed out.

“I suppose not at the moment,” Ignis admitted. “But I tend to assume he's nearby when I see you, as attached at the hip as you are." He paused, then added "Additionally, I don't make a habit of using my powers in casual settings, as it tends to make people uncomfortable.”

Prompto remembered something about that, too. God, his anxiety really was making him assume the worst, wasn’t it? He already knew this—the only reason he wasn’t a hundred times more nervous around the advisor  _ because _ he already knew this. “Sorry, you're right. I forgot. Sorry. I'm just—”

“—deeply nervous about tomorrow, and don't want anyone to know exactly how nervous.” Ignis flicked on his turn signal, the red-flashing light brightening his face, and he smiled at Prompto. “Is that correct?”

“Y-yeah.” Prompto ducked his head away. “Yeah, that's pretty much it.”

“You need not worry,” Ignis assured him. “Everyone receives an animal that fits them, even if they don't understand it at first. Whatever you get, it will be something that matches you. You have nothing to fear.”

Ignis’ words were meant to be kind, but that was exactly what Prompto was afraid of. He wasn't anything special—not smart, not strong, not magic. Whatever he got, it was going to suck. Or worse, maybe it would reveal a secret about him that even he didn’t know, giving him an animal that reflects the horrible person he was going to grow into.

“Yeah, I know that. I just…” He looked out the window again, listening to the sound of the windshield wipers. He didn't know how to end that sentence. He didn't want to put into words just how trash he really was—it would make it too real. Like a curse into the air, he wouldn't be able to take it back, and it would jinx his results tomorrow.

As the silence lingered, Ignis offered some respite. “Is there anything in particular you'd like to be?”

Prompto considered it. “I...wouldn't mind being a chocobo, honestly. The guys were right about that. But…” He closed his eyes. “I've always kind of wanted to fly. I don't know why. So maybe some sort of bird?”

“Chocobos can glide,” Ignis offered. “Would that be good enough?”

Prompto smiled at him. “It's better than what I can do right now.”

“That sounds like quitter talk.”

That surprised a laugh out of Prompto. “I'm sorry, are you implying I could glide if I tried hard enough? Should I start jumping out of trees to practice?”

And in the light of one of the street lamps they passed, Prompto could see a slight smile on Ignis’ lips. “If anyone I know could make an apparatus to allow themselves to glide safely out of a tree, it would be you.”

Prompto laughed again. “Thanks? That's definitely one of the strangest compliments I've gotten, but thanks.”

“You're quite intelligent, Prompto,” Ignis said earnestly, which made Prompto’s breath catch. “And you don't give up easily. Those two traits together make me believe that you could achieve anything, given enough time.”

“Aw, shucks,” Prompto said jokingly, both because he was trying to brush off the compliments, and because he was fucking incapable of socialising like a normal goddamn person, “you're gonna make me blush.”

(He  _ was _ blushing.)

“I'm simply being honest, and trying to offer some reassurances for tomorrow.” He pulled up to Prompto's apartment building, idling the car. “Do you have any last minute worries you'd like to go over?”

“Uh.” There was a list of about a zillion-bajillion things, but he didn't want to keep Ignis waiting all night. “How do I make sure I don't trip when walking down the aisle?”

To Ignis’ credit, he didn't laugh at Prompto's dumb question. “When the Crystal connects to you, you will enter a thrall of sorts. You won't trip unless the Crystal wants you to, for some ungodly reason.”

Prompto didn't expect a legitimate answer to his joking-but-actually-pretty-genuine question, but he was glad to have one. “Right. Cool. Just don't make the giant magic crystal angry.”

“A simple task, I’m sure. Any other questions?”

A lot. “Nah. I should just try to sleep, and wing it tomorrow.” Prompto opened the car door, and paused at the rain outside.

“A wise decision,” Ignis said, watching Prompto pull his hoodie up. “Goodnight, Prompto.”

“‘Night.” Prompto stepped out of the car and into the cool, rainy night air. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime.”

He gave Ignis a bright smile, the rain not dampening it at all. “You'll regret saying that when I call you at three A.M. one of these days.”

“If you call me at such a time, I’m sure you’ll have a good reason to.” Ignis shooed him before he could respond. “Away with you. You're going to give yourself hypothermia.”

Prompto laughed, closing the door. Ignis was right, the rain was actually soaking him pretty quickly. He ran to the cover of the front doors, waving as he went. He couldn't see Ignis in the car, but he liked to think that Ignis waved back.

He wandered into the elevator, feeling a little better, but mostly still not ready at all. He punched in his floor number, and his hand drifted over to touch his wristband.

In less than twenty-four hours, everyone would know exactly who, or what, Prompto Argentum really was.

He really wasn’t looking forward to it.


	2. I Don't Want the World to See Me

Prompto tried not to shift too much, standing in formation with the other Crownsguard who'd graduated this quarter. He'd already fixed his shirt and gloves several times now, and he knew it would only be so long before someone got annoyed with him. So he reminded himself that the outfit was fitted; it looked fine. Probably. His sweat wasn’t noticeable from a distance. He was fine.

He was _fine._

The Crystal Chamber wasn’t super large, so not many people could be in it for the ceremony. Inside the room itself were his fellow graduates, the King and his Shield, and a few Crownsguard at the door. Cor stood beside the King, too. But besides that, there was some space for guests in observing decks above the chamber, separated with dark-ish glass from the main room.

Despite the small amount of space in the observation room, Prompto was surprised that there were so few people watching. It felt like something magical like this should have had hundreds of people there to witness it. But he supposed it made sense, since this was just a standard acceptance ceremony, and there were four per year. So it was no biggie. Technically. Not in the eyes of the public, anyway.

It was a very, very big deal to Prompto.

God, he hoped he wasn’t going to pass out.

He turned his head a little as King Regis went through the final bits of his speech—congratulating them and reminding them of their duties—to look up at the observation room. Noctis and the others were up there, slightly separate from the noble families watching. When Noctis saw him looking, he gave a small wave. Prompto smiled a little and focused back on the King in the centre of the room.

Gods, he was super dizzy. Even such a small movement made the room spin a little.

He tried to breathe in the way Ignis showed him to, a specific way that was apparently scientifically shown to help people calm down. Or maybe Ignis made it up to distract him, he didn’t know. But he pressed the tip of his tongue against the top of his mouth, like he was supposed to. Breathe in for four, hold for seven, out for eight. Repeat. In for four, hold, out for eight. Was this helping? He didn't know.

“Alta Abbatia.”

Oh, god. That was so close to Prompto. Why did his surname have to start with A? He was sixth in line. He didn’t want to be sixth.

Alta, a young noble who was actually nice to Prompto during training, walked up the aisle. He looked comfortable and confident, smiling a little as he knelt before the King. Prompto watched as the King placed his ringed hand on Alta’s head, and the crystal began glowing again. Out of it burst pinpricks of light, which sat elevated in the air for a moment before it came together to form a bear. Alta took the last few strides toward the crystal, hand reaching out, and touched the bear’s head. It shattered, and the light shards absorbed into his chest. Prompto watched as he turned around, a vaguely dazed look on his face, to return to his place in their formation.

Prompto was happy for him. Bears were good—strong and stuff. He hoped the others would get good animals like that, too. But he closed his eyes instead of waiting to see what they all got, the flashing lights upsetting his head. It was only a matter of time until...

“Prompto Argentum.”

Fuck.

He stepped out of formation, trying to focus on putting one leg in front of the other. He was shaking, he could feel it, and he prayed to the Astrals that it wasn’t noticeable from the observation decks. _Don’t trip,_ he begged himself. _Just please don’t trip._

When he approached King Regis, the man put a hand on his arm. Prompto blinked, desperately trying to focus on him, because the _King_ was saying something and Prompto couldn’t hear it over the sound of blood rushing in his ears and _oh god was he supposed to respond?_ Was this a question? A wish of good luck? Prompto smiled weakly, and nodded, and that seemed good enough for the King. He smiled at Prompto, which Prompto took as the signal to kneel.

He blinked down at the King’s fancy boots, and had a bizarre moment where he wondered if King Regis ever wore sneakers. If he ever tripped over untied shoelaces.

Then there was a hand on Prompto’s head, and he stopped thinking at all.

He looked up, and felt...at peace. Content. Happy. Comfortable. He felt like he fit right in his skin, and everything was soft and light and beautiful in such a way that he’d later find really fucking weird.

The details of the hall were blurred and faded, a dark smudge in his peripheries that didn’t matter in comparison to the glowing light of the Crystal. It was beautiful. It was all that mattered. The magic ran through him like cold water, and when the wondrous Crystal burst into thousands of shards of light, he stood.

There were so many stars, so much light, and when the glowing pieces of magic came back together to form a dragon, he felt no fear. Only joy, familiarity, and friendship. He stepped towards it, standing under its tall height, smiling up at it. He felt like he was moving in slow motion, watching as it bowed its head to meet his approach. He ran his hands along the side of its face, its eyes squinting happily at him. 

When he touched his forehead to the dragon’s, it burst into shards yet again, surrounding his body in an embrace of light. He felt so much love and joy in that moment that he couldn’t fathom the idea of doing anything besides standing there smiling, enjoying the feeling in all its soft, warm beauty.

Then the light faded, and the feeling did too, and he remembered where he was.

Suddenly his heart was in his throat and he jerked his head around to look at—everything. He couldn’ read the King’s face. Clarus was surprised, and Cor looked...calculating. The other graduates were staring at him with varying degrees of surprise, anger, and confusion, with a few looks of glee mixed in. He looked up to where his friends were and saw Noctis with his face squished up against the glass like—like he'd have teleported down next to Prompto if it weren’t in the way. Gladio was behind him, working himself into a laughing fit.

Ignis was a picture of poised surprise, fingers hovering over his mouth, his wide eyes the biggest giveaway of how he was feeling. He was focused so singularly on Prompto, it would almost be nice if Prompto didn’t feel like he was going to pass out, and that attention definitely wasn’t helping. But then Ignis seemed to register Prompto looking, and he moved his hand to smile and give a thumbs up that definitely felt weird for Ignis.

Prompto turned around and speedwalked back down the aisle. He knew he was ducking his head, which was improper when in uniform, but he didn’t have the mental focus try to stop. He was just—disoriented, confused, self-conscious, and in the middle of a very public anxiety attack.

How long was he up there, standing and looking around like an idiot? It could have been for three seconds, which is acceptable, or three minutes, which definitely wasn’t. Would anyone have told him to move if he stood there gaping like a fish for several minutes? Or was everyone else too busy staring to notice?

Some of the other graduates’ heads turned to look at him when he returned to formation, which definitely wasn’t proper procedure, and Cor cleared his throat to get them staring forwards again. Prompto was deathly aware of the fact that despite this, the people behind him could definitely still be looking at him, and he was certain they were, and this awareness meant that he couldn't stop feeling their stares on the back of his neck.

King Regis said the next name, which Prompto barely registered, and the ceremony continued. He didn’t stop feeling like all eyes were on him, his mind overshot with so much anxiety and self-consciousness that made it hard to think or focus his eyes. He continued feeling that way all the way up to when the ceremony finished, and they were led into the hallway to be dismissed.

The ceremony lasted over an hour. His nerves hadn't calmed at all in that time.

The other graduates almost immediately broke off into groups to talk, and he tried to tell himself that they were just talking about what _they_ got, not about him, but he couldn't believe it. He stood dumbly, unsure of where to go and what to do. He swore he heard someone say “Aren't dragons a Niff thing?” and felt like crying.

This wasn't what he wanted.

“Prom!”

He looked up to see his friends coming down the hall. Noctis was grinning, bouncing on his feet as he walked, and it made Prompto feel a little less completely awful. But also, he really didn't want to do the Friends With The Prince thing in front of everyone right now, not in front of the handful of trainees who already hated him. 

But then Noctis was hugging him, and Gladio dropped his arm over his shoulder so heavily he almost fell over, and Ignis looked so very pleased, and it all made Prompto feel horrible for thinking that way.

Noctis deserved a better friend than someone who doesn't want to be seen with him, dammit. Prompto needed to be better.

“I told you that you'd be something wonderful,” Ignis said, and Prompto smiled shakily up at him.

“Thanks,” he croaked, and Noctis pulled back to look at him.

“And you were worried about being a worm,” Gladio said way too loudly, laughing even louder at the idea, and Prompto flushed hard. No one needed to know that. Fuck, people were looking at him weren't they? Gladio's laughter was drawing looks—

“Hey,” Noctis said quietly, “you okay?”

Ignis stepped closer, blocking out the rest of the hall from view, a worried expression on his face. When Prompto shrugged, Ignis suggested that they move somewhere more private.

“That sounds good,” Prompto whispered. “Thanks.”

Gladio shifted his arm, guiding Prompto down the hall and shielding him from view. Noctis walked on his other side, arm around his waist, looking at him with worried eyes. Ignis walked behind them, creating a three-way wall that allowed him to stop feeling the eyes on the back of his neck. He could see in front of him, where no one was looking at him, and he knew he could no longer be easily seen from the back. He was safe. He was good.

* * *

They took him to Noctis’ suite. Prompto felt like he could breathe again.

“Sit down,” Ignis said, and Prompto walked over to the couch automatically. “Noctis, pick a movie to watch.” He walked into the kitchen.

“Sure thing.” Noctis hopped over to his movie stack. He looked over his shoulder at Prompto. “Are you feeling more like watching a comedy or an action tonight?”

Prompto shrugged. “Um, it's whatever.”

Noctis hummed thoughtfully, turning back to the movies. “Maybe something animated…”

Gladio fell onto the chair next to Prompto. “So,” Gladio cocked his head, “that was a surprise.”

“Y-yeah.” Prompto smiled weakly. “Not what I was expecting at all.”

Gladio ruffled his hair, and Prompto tensed. He just—wasn’t ready to be touched too much right then, and he didn’t want his hair to be messed up on top of everything else. “Didn't know you had it in ya. Glad to see it, though—you're a real fighter.”

Prompto wasn't sure he agreed with that, but he didn't have the energy to disagree. So he just pushed Gladio's arm off. “I sure am,” he said without any gusto. He was a deflated balloon about to threaten the Prince's Shield. “I'll kick your butt any day.”

“Oh yeah?” Gladio grinned, a twinkle in his eyes. “Is that a challenge?”

Prompto sunk comfortably back into the couch, letting himself melt into it. “And what if it is?” he mumbled.

“Don't start fucking wrestling in the goddamn Citadel, you idiots.” Noctis looked at them blearily and Gladio laughed. “He just got his power. If he transforms into a dragon and destroys this room, it's gonna ruin everyone's day.”

Ignis came out of the kitchen, where the sound of popcorn starting to pop could be heard, holding a glass of water. “Please refrain from destroying royal property.” He handed Prompto the glass, and some pain killers. Gladio was saying something about being able to beat Prompto before he could transform, but Prompto was barely paying attention. “This will help with the headache,” Ignis said quietly.

“Thanks.” Prompto gave Ignis a small smile, and Noctis told Gladio he'd still make a huge mess. “I didn't even realise a headache was coming on until you mentioned it.”

“It will get worse,” Ignis said grimly. “Drink all the water too, being hydrated helps with the after-effects of the magic.”

Prompto nodded and gulped down the water. He started feeling better pretty quickly—he hadn't realised how thirsty he was. The cold was super nice too. He was beginning to feel like a human being again.

“Seriously, dude. You might be strong, but you wouldn't be able to wrestle a dragon.” Noctis put a DVD in the player.

“But I'm saying it would never reach that point!” Gladio gestured widely. “I don't need to fight a dragon if he's detained as a human.”

“How the fuck do you expect to stop him from shifting—”

“Guys,” Prompto interrupted. “You're ignoring a very important point.” They looked at him, and he grinned. “Gladio couldn't stop me even if I were human.”

“Oh-ho!” Gladio stood up. “Them's fighting words.”

Prompto leaned back on the couch, bringing the glass to his lips. “Sorry buddy, I totally would, but royal decree says that we can't fight right now. Also Ignis’ decree says not to spill water on the couch.”

“That is not preferred, no,” Ignis said.

Noctis laughed, sitting next to Prompto. “Y'know, I can see it. The whole dragon thing.” He gestured at Prompto. “Aren't they like, known for pulling pranks?”

“I thought they were known for their bravery and might,” Gladio said.

Prompto thought they were murderous monsters, but he kept his mouth shut.

“It depends on the type,” Ignis said. “Some are tricksters, some are kind, some are vengeful. Based on the size of the spectre in the Chambers, however, I believe you were a gold or a red dragon—the smaller types.”

Prompto twisted to look at Ignis. “And what do those two symbolise?”

“I would have to look into it,” Ignis said, walking back into the kitchen. “But all dragons are known for their intelligence.”

Prompto made a face, not really believing that. But sure.

Noctis shifted on the couch to lean his elbow against Prompto. It was subtle, but Prompto had grown to recognize what that meant. He was trying to touch on Prompto’s emotions—sometimes he’d do this in public places, to check in on Prompto’s emotions when everyone else’s were too loud, but other times he did it to influence Prompto’s emotions. When Prompto felt the last edge of his nerves calm, he knew it was the latter.

Noctis gave him a questioning look, and Prompto smiled at him, letting him know that it was okay. They'd talked about it before, deciding that Noctis could do that sort of thing if Prompto was spiraling or having a panic attack. Ignis warned them against it because they could be making a crutch, but Prompto figured that in situations like this, when he was already calming down, it was just helping him calm down faster. So there was no harm, no foul.

Gladio sat back down, taking the controller to skip over the ads to get to the actual movie. “We're gonna have to fight for real some time, blondie. Especially now that you got a Reflection that could put up a real fight. After you’re trained to control it, of course.”

“Gladio,” Prompto groaned, “I don’t wanna think about training right now. I wanna watch silly cartoons and cry over a heroic dog.”

Ignis’ phone rang, and before Gladio could respond, Noctis told Gladio to stop skipping over the ads. “They’re part of the entertainment,” he complained. “I want to see what’s coming out.”

“This DVD is from years ago, all this stuff is out of date.”

“But like, _still._ It's the principle of it all."

Ignis only said a few words to the person on the phone, including a quick thank-you, before hanging up. “Gladio, come help me get the pizza so that his Highness can watch his advertisements in peace.”

Prompto perked up. “We’re eating pizza?”

Ignis smiled. “It’s a night of celebration, is it not?”

“It’s Morris’s Pizza, too,” Noctis said proudly. “I convinced him.”

“Morris’s Pizza?” Prompto sat up straight. “Oh my God, the Iggster is letting you eat _Morris’s_ Pizza?”

"Hard to believe, I know," Noctis said.

Gladio laughed. “I think I can smell the grease from here.”

“Me too,” Prompto said dreamily.

Ignis shook his head, but he was smiling. “We’ll be right back. Feel free to start the movie without us.”

“Nah, we’ll wait,” Noctis said.

And they _didn’t_ start the movie until the guys were back in the suite, but Ignis complained because they started eating the plain popcorn before he’d added any spices to it. They put the pizza boxes on the coffee table, and Ignis made more popcorn, spices added this time (and refused to let Noctis eat any of it). They watched the movie, ate way too much super greasy pizza, and put a second movie on. Prompto slowly fell asleep at around the middle it—he was _exhausted,_ it was kinda absurd how tired he felt after the ceremony, and the headache was making him want to close his eyes anyway—but he was trying to stay awake. He didn’t want to fall asleep at 8pm like some sort of old man.

But Gladio moved off the couch and onto the floor, which meant there was more space to stretch out, and Noctis was already starting to doze too—sitting up perfectly straight, which couldn’t be good for his neck, even though it was impressive to Prompto how he could fall asleep anywhere. It all was making it very tempting to sleep. But he wanted to stay awake, for just a bit longer.

It wasn’t until he woke up to a blanket being placed over him and Noctis that Prompto realised he’d fallen asleep. He peeked through his eyelashes to see Ignis carefully tucking the two of them in together—Noctis had ended up leaning against Prompto in his sleep, apparently, as the leech of heat that he was. The pizza boxes were gone, as was Gladio, though there was some shuffling coming from the kitchen.

Prompto pretended to still be asleep, snuggling into Noctis, enjoying the warmth and imagining that Ignis was tucking them in because he liked Prompto, and not because of his responsibility to the Prince. He was sleepy enough that it wasn’t too hard to enter a dreamy world where Ignis was doing this for his sake, and his alone, because he cared that much.

It was a nice feeling, and Prompto fell back asleep easily, happily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, the wonderful art is by dragon_cat_arts! You can find them on [twitter](https://twitter.com/dragon_cat_arts) or [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/dragon_cat_arts/) c:


	3. Spread My Wings and Learn to Fly

Training was always a mixed bag for Prompto. Sometimes it was fun, and the soreness he got from the exercise felt good, and he felt proud of what he'd accomplished. He felt awake, energized, and strong. Other days he couldn't stop tripping on his feet, he kept on getting hit, and he felt about as inexperienced as he had been on his first day. Those days, the looks from the others were hard to ignore.

Today was...somewhere between the two. He wasn't doing badly, per se, but it was all Very New and therefore Very Scary and Prompto felt just a little intimidated by it all.

They weren't training at the Citadel, and instead were towards the edge of the wall surrounding Insomnia. All the graduates who had large or dangerous creatures as their Reflections were required to train out there until they had better control over their shifting—which included Prompto. It was his first day back to training after a week of seminars, all about meditation and maintaining control over themselves in their animal forms.

Today was the first day he was allowed to shift. Or, they were  _ allowed _ to, but they weren't  _ supposed _ to. The idea was that they'd train and learn what their limits were in battle, see how far they could go before their Reflection came out. But they were supposed to do their best not to let that happen.

The day  _ had  _ started out okay, with mostly normal training.

That didn't last long.

“On your feet, Prompto!” Gladio called from the side of the field. Prompto rolled away, barely avoiding being crushed under the feet of a several-tonne animal.

He'd been sparring with a woman named Decora, who turned out to be a garula. He'd learned this when he flipped her onto her back harder than he meant to, and she transformed into one, and was currently trying to kill him.

The good news was that his speed and reaction times had improved because of the ceremony, so he wasn't dead yet. Those particular skills hadn't been too bad in the first place, so that boost was nice. The bad news was that his strength had improved too, just a little bit. Despite being such a small improvement, it was enough that he kept hitting people harder than he meant to.

Which was why he was almost getting crushed by a garula right then.

“Prompto, stay calm!”

“I know!” he yelled back at Gladio, scrambling away from Decora as fast as he could. But she was a very, very angry garula, and he was a very tiny human with very frail emotions.

He was scared. He knew he was scared. He needed to not be scared. Prompto could feel something unfurling inside him, and he knew he  _ really needed to not let it unfurl right now. _

Gladio slammed into the side of the garula with his shield, knocking it off balance. “Decora,” he said lowly. Prompto jumped to his feet as soon as he could. “Remember that you're a person, Decora. Calm down.”

Prompto backed up, heart hammering in his chest, watching as the garula looked him in the eyes, inhuman and angry. A bit of shimmering blue danced at Prompto's peripheries, and he tried to slow down his beating heart, to tell the beast inside him to settle down.

“No no no,” Gladio stepped into its line of view. “Look at me. Calm down.”

Prompto kept walking back, slowly. He felt someone come up beside him, and he tensed. But it was just Cor, pulling him to the side where the senior Crownsguard were watching—ready to intervene if something went South.

“Stay calm,” Cor said. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine? I'm fine.” Prompto was tense, but he was fine. “Not hurt, just a little surprised.” He was  _ fine. _

Cor scanned his eyes closely, cold blue piercing into Prompto’s own. Eventually he nodded, breezing past Prompto towards Decora and Gladio. A few other Crownsguard followed him.

Prompto let go of a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He glanced at the Crownsguard he'd been placed by and noticed that some were watching him, some were watching the garula, and the rest were watching the other graduates spar. There was...a lot of people here, actually. He honestly didn't know why some of them were there that day—it seemed like more people than was needed to just help with a dozen or so new graduates not kill each other during training.

There was a flash of blue light, and Prompto looked back to see Decora changing back into a human. That was...good. He was glad she'd calmed down. He hoped she wasn't going to be in trouble for being the first to shift.

He wanted to apologize to her, but he wasn't sure if he was allowed to leave his spot. Was he put there for his safety, or to be watched by the seniors? He didn't know. So he waited, rolling back on his heels, using up some of his anxious energy.

Gladio, Decora, and Cor came over, and Cor said “Let's switch everyone’s partners.”

Then Prompto fought against someone who turned into a spiracorn, then someone who turned into a voretooth, and finally a kingatrice, which he wouldn't have expected to be worse to fight than a voretooth but it somehow really fucking was. It was terrifying. Prompto was going to have nightmares about feathers and beaks for weeks to come.

Gladio came up to him when he was hyperventilating to the side after the Kingatrice Nightmare Battle. “Rethinking your stance on birds?”

“Chocobos—” Prompto gasped, “are still—the best.” 

Gladio snorted. “Sure they are, kid.” He put a water bottle in Prompto's face, which Prompto gladly accepted, falling back to sit on the grass. He noticed that his hands were shaking as he held the bottle.

As he sipped at the water—experience told him that gulping gave him cramps during training—he looked over at the bear-that-had-once-been-Alta as it snarled at Cor, and frowned.

“Why is everyone transforming so quickly?” he asked. “I thought the point of today was to not do that. Are we failing?"

Gladio shrugged. "What better way for cadets to learn to stop it than to figure out what starts it?"

"So…we're not failing?"

“No. Well, not technically." Gladio surveyed the scene before him, not reacting at all when Cor punched a bear in the face. "You and your peers are actually doing pretty good, over all. No one transformed from the basic drills or anything."

Prompto lowered the water bottle, surprised. "That's happened?"

"Yeah. Some people don't deal well with any sort of adrenaline going through them, apparently. Those are the people that need the most training." He gestured to the group. "But that's the point of today. Right now it's less about actually starting your resilience training, and more about finding what your specific triggers are. That's the first building block."

“I thought the trigger was adrenaline?” Prompto asked.

“Usually. That's why the first drills are always a risk. Seems that's not the case for this quarter’s group, though.” Gladio pointed at Decora, training far away from Prompto now. “Turns out Decora's trigger is anger, considering how pissed she was when you broke her arm earlier.”

Prompto jerked back. “I broke her  _ arm? _ Fuck, I didn't mean to…”

“It's fine, she'll probably break your arm back eventually. She's got a lot of strength in that small body of hers.”

“Not what I wanted to hear, but sure.”

Gladio pointed at Alta. “Seems his trigger is either fear or pain, given the fact he was sparring with Cor when he shifted. They'll probably put him up against me, Monica, Decora, or you next, since we're the hardest hitters—to see if pain throws him down the hole again.”

“Me?” Prompto's face screwed up in confusion. “Dude, I didn't get that much stronger after the ceremony. I can lift, like, ten pounds more than before.” They'd taken physicals before and after the ceremony to see specifics about what had changed. In Prompto's opinion, his results were kind of disappointing.

“True, but you're a lot faster now, so you're harder to dodge. So you're hitting more, and you're hitting harder.”

“Barely harder,” Prompto muttered.

Gladio gave him an unimpressed look. “Imagine Noctis punching you. Now imagine he's punching you with 10 pound weights in each hand.”

“That's...not how that works.” That didn't quite sound right, anyway.

“Maybe not, but it should give you some perspective on how you get changed.”

“But  _ everyone _ got stronger! Ten pounds isn't anything compared to Decora's fifty."

“Yeah,” Gladio said, “but that doesn't mean everyone got used to being hit harder.”

Prompto couldn't deny that. He scanned the others—about half of them had shifted today, but the other half were still fine. “What if we don't shift today? Will we do this again tomorrow?”

Gladio chuckled. “Oh, you'll shift today. We've still got an hour left.”

Prompto cocked his head. “An hour isn't  _ that _ much time.”

“You'll see.”

“Prompto!” Cor called. “Break's over. Come here.”

Prompto scrambled to his feet. “Yes, sir!”

“Good luck,” Gladio said ominously, and Prompto shot him a questioning look. He just smirked, gesturing to Prompto to get on with it.

“Take this.” Cor handed Prompto a red handkerchief when he jogged up. No patterns, kinda bright, nothing really special about it.

“Uh. Okay?”

“Tie it somewhere.”

Prompto put it on his arm, under his black handkerchief.

“Good.” Cor grabbed his arm and lifted it up, like he was a wrestler being declared the winner. “Crownsguard!” he called, and Prompto's stomach dropped. “New challenge! If Argentum still has the flag when the time runs out, you'll all have to do three-hundred pushups.”

“W-what?” Prompto squeaked.

“If you get it, he's the only one who has to do the pushups.”

The eyes of the others turned dark with the challenge.

“You have five minutes. Ready?” Cor lifted the timer up. Quietly, he said “You might want to start running.”

Prompto turned around and sprinted. Two heartbeats later, Cor yelled “Go!”

Prompto wasn't the fastest runner—the spiracorn and voretooth were—so it wouldn't take long for a few of them to catch up with him. But he had good endurance, so he hoped he'd be able to outlast the group despite their numbers.

Alta, recently de-beared and unfortunately the person who was just sparring with Cor and therefore was the closest to them where Prompto started, got to him first. He grabbed the back of Prompto's vest instead of the handkerchief, which caught Prompto off guard, and he stumbled to the ground when Atla pulled him back.

Prompto tried to roll but landed on his shoulder badly anyway. Alta was diving towards him like he was going to tackle him—he must have been trying to pin Prompto down, so someone else could come get the flag. Alta was big, he could definitely keep Prompto down if he wanted to.

This would be a really short challenge if that happened.

Prompto rolled out of the way and kicked at Alta’s legs.The momentum of Alta running mixed badly with his feet being kicked out, and it sent him flying into the ground kinda hard. Whoops.

“Sorry!” Prompto scrambled up, turning to run again. He stumbled when Atla grabbed his ankle, and he panicked a little because the others were getting  _ way _ too close now and he really didn't need them added to this. “Sorry!” he shouted, messily kicking Alta's hands, stumbling back and sprinting away.

And almost immediately ran into another guard—was this one named Maria? Or Marina? Or— _ shit nevermind  _ she was diving right for the handkerchief. He pulled away, but she quickly changed trajectory and turned her grab into a punch to his gut, which  _ hurt _ goddammit.

She grabbed his arm, smiling with sharp teeth and he remembered,  _ ah, she's the voretooth, _ before being twisted and pulled towards her.

Instead of fighting the momentum, he embraced it, ducking and trying to push her over. She grabbed at him as she started going down, trying to take him down too, but he pulled back and barely managed to stay up.

When the next one tried to grab him a moment later, he thanked his lucky stars that his reaction times improved after the ceremony, since he was able to avoid the encounter by a hair.

From there he was able to duck, weave, and kick his way around the others. Prompto realised he was able to get out of their reach and break their holds pretty easily now, though he was definitely not doing as well as he should have been. If they had their weapons, he'd have been hurting really badly—there was so many times he would have been stabbed in the gut, that day. Or shot. Or tied down. Or stabbed again. He would have been screwed in an actual fight.

Cor blew the whistle and yelled “Time! Everyone, get down and give me three-hundred.”

Prompto threw his hands into the air in victory before collapsing backward onto the grass. He was trying to control his breathing, he really was, because he was practically choking on his breaths. He didn't like the feeling of panic that came with not having enough oxygen. But the feeling of magic pacing around inside his chest was something he liked even less.

It had only been five minutes, but that drill had been so much worse than five minutes of sprinting. It had been worse than five minutes of training. It had been worse than five minutes of training with  _ Cor. _ It was hell. Prompto didn't think he'd ever ran so hard in his life.

He squeezed his eyes shut. The sense of panic wasn't leaving. It was almost getting worse. Was he having a panic attack right now? Seriously? It had been like, eight months since his last one, he really had hoped he was over this sort of thing by now. He rolled onto his side, clutching at his chest, trying to calm down just calm down  _ it's fine calm down already— _

A shadow covered his face, and Prompto opened his eyes to see Cor frowning down at him.

“Sir,” he gasped.

“You didn't shift.”

“N-no, sir.” His hands were shaking.

“Adrenaline is not your trigger.” He pressed a finger into Prompto's shoulder, which made him gasp at the pain. He looked at it and was surprised to see a dark bruise forming—fuck, he landed on his shoulder way harder than he thought he did. He was a little less sorry about kicking Alta now. “Pain isn't your trigger, either,” Cor continued. “Were you afraid today?”

“Um,” Prompto felt his heart seem to shake in his chest, “yes? I'm like, always afraid.” He was going for a joking tone, but his voice came out way thinner than he meant to. He laughed shakily to try to save it.

Cor inspected him with those icy eyes of his. “Are you always  _ afraid _ , or are you anxious?”

Was there a difference? Prompto's thought must have shown on his face, because Cor sighed deeply.

“Sorry about this, kid.”

He opened his mouth to ask what for, but then Cor was turning blue and growing and—oh holy fuck.

“C-Cor?” Prompto scrambled backwards as the marshal turned into a huge griffon, grand feathered wings stretching out and beating the air once—strong enough that it unbalanced Prompto, even while he sat on the ground.

When he met the griffon’s eyes, he saw intelligence there—it was Cor, definitely, and Prompto tried to tell himself that he was safe, but Cor’s apology was ringing through his mind and the way the griffon was coming closer to him meant that Prompto felt that Thing unfurling in his chest before Cor even grabbed him with his huge taloned feet. It meant he felt panic surging through him before Cor even flew into the air. It meant that when Cor dropped him, he wasn’t really himself anymore.

He didn’t fall for very long.

Light enveloped him, surrounding him in a far more unpleasant way than he’d anticipated. It was nothing like the ceremony. He was shocked by how much the dragon bursting from him felt like a panic attack taking over. He couldn’t think, he was afraid, he just wanted to be able to breathe and get away.

The dragon’s wings caught the wind, messily stopping the fall before the ground could catch up with him. He landed on the ground,  _ mostly _ on purpose, though wasn't the gentlest landing.

He looked around with new eyes and a new mind, searching for danger, for what made him transform, trying to understand what was happening. His claws were beared, his wings spread to make him appear larger, and he tried to understand what was happening around him. It was a chaotic mess of humans and animals. He didn't feel like he remembered there being this many animals around him a minute ago, but he couldn't think to figure out what was happening.

The chaos wasn't helping; some humans were chasing the animals, animals were chasing animals, some humans were watching him, some animals were watching him.

But...none of those were the danger that caused him so much fear. Something else had been about to cause him harm.

A shadow passed by and he looked up to see a griffon. Bigger than the other animals, he knew it was the danger that almost hurt him. It was what he was here to fight. But it wasn’t very big, which felt wrong. He felt like it should be bigger, somehow, like it had been larger only moments ago. But it was the danger, somehow, despite being half his size. It was the enemy, so he watched it with sharp eyes.

He growled as it drifted closer, entering a warning stance when it landed on the ground nearby. It turned to look at him, and he didn’t like that. He didn’t like that so many things were happening here. He didn’t like that the humans were getting closer.

A voice called something over the confusion, and he looked down at one particular human who was getting close. Bad move. He growled at it—humans weren’t necessarily bad, but he didn’t want anything near him at the moment. He wanted to breathe. He wanted to be left alone.

The human had strange markings on its body, and was saying something. It wasn’t getting closer any more, but it didn’t seem particularly afraid either, which made the dragon wary. What trick did it have up its sleeve that meant it wasn’t afraid? Something was wrong here—

His thoughts were interrupted by sound, one that made him feel something. He paused to listen. The human was singing something, a tune that was familiar somehow. It was—

_ I want to ride my cho-co-bo all day— _

The man was singing—no, that was Gladio—Gladio was singing the chocobo song, and Prompto was—

And Prompto was  _ Prompto, _ not just some random dragon.

Gladio must have seen the instant Prompto remembered himself, because he started grinning widely. He was saying something but Prompto was too caught up in realising he was a motherfucking dragon right then to pay attention. Because holy _ shit _ he felt weird, he had such a strange body, like he felt so heavy and light at the same time, so strong—and whoa, were the colours different?

Looking around, Prompto raised his head and looked at the sunset. It was—so colourful. He’d never seen anything like that before. There were more colours than he knew existed. So many more than what humans could see. He felt like it looked more real than any sunset he’d ever seen before, beautiful and transcendent. The grass and fields even looked different. He couldn’t believe it. He let the view wash over him, a sense of beauty and awe all he knew.

He was turning back into a human before he thought much about it, the world shifting around him and the colours turning duller and normal, until he was just some guy on his knees staring at the sunset.

Gladio knelt down next to him. “How’ you feeling?”

It took him a moment to speak. “I don’t know. That was…”

He didn’t have an end to that sentence. He was trying to hold the image of the sunset in his mind, hoping he’d never forget it.

“I’m surprised you didn’t run,” Gladio said, and Prompto blinked, turning to look at him. “You made half these people’s jobs today pointless.”

"What do you mean?"

“If you tried flying away, we might have been a bit fucked with the usual crew,” Gladio explained. He pointed at some of the senior Crownsguard, who were transforming back into humans. Now that he was looking at them, Prompto realised a lot of them had wings. “Those guys, the ones who could fly? They were here specifically in case you ran. We don’t normally have this many seniors here for this.”

“Oh.” Prompto’s mind still felt like it was about ten feet away. “No one can complain about an easy work day though, right?”

Gladio was watching him closely, but grinned anyway. “Right you are. A boring day is better than a catastrophic one.” He stood, offering Prompto a hand. “C’mon, let's get you back in the action. I think Cor wants to talk to you.”

Prompto glanced over to where the seniors were convening, including the huge griffon that was turning back into Cor. He was, in fact, looking back towards them.

(But then again, it seemed like mostly everyone was staring at him, which wasn't great. The only things that weren't were the graduates who had transformed into their Reflections when he did, and the people who were trying to rally them together.)

"Okay," Prompto said warily, taking Gladio's hand. "Time to talk to the Marshal."

Cor met them halfway. “You'd be good for the front lines,” he said, and Prompto wasn't sure if he should be flattered or very, very worried. He settled on both. "It takes a lot to get you to lose control."

"Thank you?" he tried. He didn't  _ feel _ ready for battle.

Gladio snorted. "You probably won't see much of the front lines though, if his Highness has any say in it."

"No, you won't," Cor agreed. "Gladio, I'd like a minute with him."

"Yessir."

Prompto looked at Gladio leaving and told himself that he wasn't in trouble. He looked at Cor, too, and told himself that he wasn't about to be dropped from three-hundred feet up again. "Sir?"

“You're braver than I thought,” Cor said.

Prompto half-laughed. But then Cor raised an eyebrow, and his self-deprecating smile faltered. "Oh, you're serious." He ducked his head. “I'm...really not. I'm just good at bottling up the fear.”

Cor levelled him with a look. “So you  _ were _ afraid?”

“I am pretty much all the time, yeah,” Prompto said.

Cor didn't buy it. “The definition of being brave isn't being fearless. It's doing what must be done, despite the fear.” He pressed a finger into Prompto's forehead, pushing him off balance. “Having no fear isn't brave, it's stupid.”

“Yes, sir.” And then, because he felt like he was being given too much credit and didn't want to disappoint Cor later when he realised he had made a mistake, he added, "But I almost shifted like, six times during training. It's not like almost falling to my death was the only thing that got me freaked out today."

"You wouldn’t have died. We had many people ready to catch you," Cor said. "But you're right, almost shifting six times isn't ideal. We do these tests to learn that, though." He took Prompto by the shoulder, pulling him back towards the rest of the group. "Most people experience their trigger in one sharp burst, and transform immediately. Once that happens, they aren't likely to transform again on the same day. Others like you experience it more slowly, more frequently, and technically are at higher risk, since it's more complicated to train for."

Oh, that didn’t sound great. "Is that bad?" Prompto asked.

"Not necessarily, it's just different. It takes longer to learn the muscle memory of shifting on purpose, and it takes longer to learn how to not shift on accident." They were with the group now, but people were mostly mulling around while the seniors were herding together the last of the people who'd shifted when Prompto turned into a dragon. "Let me put it this way. If water covering your body were the trigger, most people experience the shift as if they had just dived into a pool. You experience it like you're standing in the deep end while the water rises."

"Ah. Sounds suffocating."

"It means you're more wet more of the time, but without actually learning to swim." Cor looked at him carefully, making sure Prompto was paying attention. "One group has to swim in order to survive, and has more opportunities to learn. The other group...doesn't."

Prompto thought about it. "So I'm in the kiddy pool, trying to learn to swim?"

Prompto probably imagined it, but he could have sworn that he saw Cor's lip twitch into a smile. "Pretty much. The difficult part for you is that we're going to have to force the water to rise for you, and it's not going to be pleasant."

Prompto's stomach dropped. "I understand, sir."

Cor nodded, then walked to the middle of the group. He gave out more orders, and they continued the last of their training. There were only a few others who still hadn't shifted, and Prompto wondered if they were like him, with the water rising. It took being chased down by a set of thunderoc, and Gladio turning into a behemoth to attack them, for the last few to change too. Prompto got close again at that point, too, feeling the unpleasantness of the water/magic rising inside him and being unable to float above it, but he didn't transform again that day.

He was almost a little disappointed. He wouldn't have minded seeing the world with new eyes again, for a little bit at least.


	4. Help Me Breathe

Prompto stepped out of the cinemas, blinking up at the light streaming through the glass ceiling of the mall, marveling at the sunlight and the fact that it was still daytime, wondering how a hundred years had not passed.

“That movie was something else,” Noctis said. He was letting his eyes adjust too, sipping on what was left of his soda.

“It was amazing," Prompto agreed. "And _horrible._ Those special effects? Holy shit."

“I can’t believe that’s what kicked off the franchise.” Noctis shook his head. “They really had lower standards back then. Like, did they use jam as blood? Fuckin' awful."

“Shut up, you loved it.”

“You’re right, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.” He threw his drink into the trash. “If it were any different, we may not have gotten the ten sequals that became a backbone to our sense of humour in grade eleven.”

Prompto laughed. “Oh, and where would our friendship be without that?”

“I’d be able to take people with the name ‘Chuck’ a little more seriously, probably.”

Prompto snorted, pulling Noctis down towards the main hall of the mall. “C’mon, lets get some food.”

“You’re not full on popcorn and drinks already?” Noctis asked with a laugh.

“No, because you ate almost all of it! What happened to sharing?”

“You shouldn’t have let me hold the bag if you didn’t want me eating a bunch of it.”

Prompto huffed. “You know I’ll jump at the explosions and spill popcorn everywhere. Then neither of us would have gotten to eat.”

“And _you_ know I’ll eat any junk food placed in front of me.”

“How are you so skinny?” Prompto whined as they entered the food court. “The Astrals aren’t fair.”

Noctis gestured dismissively. “Ignis doesn’t let me enjoy life, so I eat garbage when I get the chance to. What do you wanna get, anyway?”

They couldn’t agree on a place, so Prompto got a salad from one of the “traditional” Altissian food chains, while Noctis bought a butt-tonne of fries from some place. They chatted idly until they found a place to sit, which was kind of hard despite it being after the noontime rush. There were always people in the food court of this particular mall, being the biggest and nicest one in refugee district, no matter the time of day. People just kind of sat around in it, enjoying the big windows overhead and the plants that were carefully being grown along the walls. Also, it was air conditioned, which some people were desperate for in the heat of Insomnian summers.

Prompto liked it there, and he was glad Noctis was able to come; it was of utmost importance that they see their movie before the mall stopped showing it. It was over thirty years old and was probably not going to be shown on the big screen ever again.

They decided to just sit away from the food court, on a concrete bench next to one of the escalators. They’d eaten without tables throughout highschool, preferring to have lunch under a specific tree, so it wasn’t like it was new to them.

Noctis got a text, and made a face down at his phone. “Ugh, Ignis says he’s coming to pick us up.”

“Aw, man. Did you have Citadel stuff today, or does he just want you home in time for dinner?”

“I’ve got a hearing with Clarus, he’s trying to help me understand the state of the Altissian trade routes so I don’t look like a complete idiot in front of the ambassadors next week.” He sighed. “They’re really drilling me on this stuff lately.”

“Ah. Sounds…" Prompto took a bite of his salad, "interesting.”

“I don’t need your sarcasm.”

"What sarcasm?" Prompto said as over-the-top sarcastically as his could. "Who ever heard of the concept!"

Noctis shoved his shoulder. "Shut up, Prompto."

Prompto smiled. “Sorry buddy. But I’m sure this stuff is important! Maybe. Probably. Almost certainly thirty percent important.”

Noctis shrugged, slouching over his fries miserably. “Eh, I don’t see why I gotta learn so many specifics when I have Ignis around.”

"Ignis can't do everything for you, dude." Prompto cocked his head. “Actually, why is Mr. Amicitia the one going over this stuff with you? Isn't Iggy supposed to be like, your primary source of information, or something.”

“Technically I have lots of people telling me things, it's just that Specs is the one who helps me by filtering out the unimportant things. And I listen to him better." Noctis frowned. "But is has something later today, or something. And I think Clarus is going to try to intimidate me into paying attention.”

Prompto laughed. “What, the traditional ways of teaching aren’t working?”

“Look, I’m much more of a hands-on learner than—”

A loud explosion rattled the ground, screams rising up from the same direction. Prompto was on his feet before he comprehended it, heart in his throat and panic awakening something inside him. Blue light shimmered around Prompto before he realised what was happening—

Noctis grabbed his arm, and a ragged sort of calm washed through him, one that made him dizzy on his feet, the blue light fading with the sensation.

“Noct—?” he turned to look at his friend, getting as far as registering the pale panic on his face before another explosion shook the ground under them, and Noctis moved, and everything went dark.

* * *

It was the pain that woke Prompto up. A dull ache at the back of his head, one that became sharper as he came into focus, and at first it was all that he understood. He tried moving, thinking for a bizarre moment that he was just in bed and was uncomfortable, or something, he wasn’t really sure. But when he tried, he found that moving was hard, that something was on top of him, and he was enclosed in a way that he couldn’t move his arms outward.

Prompto’s eyes shot open, panic striking through him that made it even harder to breathe. Where was he? Why was it dark? Why couldn’t he move? Where was Noct—

Noctis.

“N-Noct?” he managed, barely. He tried to sit up, and quickly ran his face into something. Concrete, probably, or maybe rock? It was hard, and it was rough, and the rising panic in his mind was screaming _that isn’t supposed to be there._

He tried to say Noct’s name again, but what came out was more of a whimper, and—oh God, that _feeling,_ that magic, was moving around inside him again—oh please no. He didn’t need to transform in the middle of this, he didn’t know how much stuff was above him. Disturbing it would be bad. He could hurt more people, he could hurt Noctis, wherever he was—

Prompto squeezed his eyes shut, pretending it was dark just because of that, and tried to calm his racing heart. He went over the exercises Cor had been teaching them, trying to find something to center himself with, trying to avoid giving into his feelings. He started at his toes, just feeling what they felt like, and slowly moved up through his body, trying to ignore anything else that was calling to his panic (like the ache on his head, the enclosing darkness, the metallic smell, the—).

He didn’t think the centering technique was actually helping him calm down very much, but by some miracle he noticed something while focusing on his body. He...realised he could still breathe, even though there was a weight on his chest. That wasn't just a figurative weight either, there was something physically there.

Though he couldn't stretch his hands out, he could move them upwards. He lifted his hands and touched the weight on top of him. This...this wasn't rubble, like his hazy brain had initially assumed. That was a head, hair, and an ear, and—something wet and warm.

“Noctis?” he whispered. “H-hey, are you…” He swallowed. “You there?”

There was no answer, and Prompto squeezed his eyes to the tears. He didn’t know that anything was actually wrong yet, not really. Noctis might just be taking longer to wake up. He was probably fine. He had to be fine.

He had to be.

A sudden buzzing noise and light startled Prompto, and he was actually able to see the slight glow of blue magic forming around his body. He shuddered a few breaths, afraid that he was shifting, until he realised the buzzing sound was Noctis’ phone. Hope surged through him, and the blue light around him faded, though it didn't disappear.

He tried to shimmy to get the phone. It was below his hip, almost at his knee, kind of close to where Noct’s limp hand was lying—

Noctis.

Between his own emerging magic and Noct's phone, there was enough light to see some details. Prompto’s eyes shot to his friend, who was lying almost completely on top of him, head on top of Prompto’s chest and—was that blood? Was Noctis injured? Was it just a minor cut, or something worse? And his legs—Prompto couldn’t quite see past Noctis’ head, but he felt like he should have been able to see his legs, and not being able to see them couldn’t be good—

The phone. He needed to grab the phone.

He had to sit up a little to grab it, but he wasn’t able to go far before rock touched his forehead—barely higher than lifting his head to look down—and it was almost out of his reach. He could touch it with his nail, but he didn’t want to push it away accidentally, so he squeezed his body sideways and tried to pull it closer to him.

He was able to pull it a bit closer but, almost as soon as he did that, it stopped ringing.

“Fuck.” Did he just hit the ignore button? “Fuck!”

He dropped his head down and reminded himself to breathe. Which was admittedly kind of hard...how much oxygen was in this space? Was there a limited supply? And with two of them there, it would be used up faster...were they running out already? Or was it just hard to breathe because he had an Entire Human laying on top of him? Gods, he wasn’t sure.

The shimmering blue started rising again, like a tide coming to drown him, and Prompto shut his eyes, telling the dragon _no, not now, go away,_ and begging himself _Just breathe, you're fine, panicking won't help your oxygen situation, please._ He didn't know how much was on top of them, and how much rubble he'd move by transforming. Gods, even if he somehow managed to not get Noctis crushed by shifting, who knows how many other people would be killed by the change in their surroundings. No, shifting was one thing he absolutely was not allowed to do.

He put his hand on Noctis’ shoulder, in a bizarre attempt at finding familiarity in the darkness, and breathed in. He counted, and did some of the newer breathing exercises Cor had shown him.

He felt the rising water that Cor had described—the well of magic the Crystal had lent to him, which would take the shape of a dragon if he let it. He kept counting, breathing, and focusing on things that made him happy; Noctis’ awful fishing outfit, the look of concentration on Ignis’ face when he’s trying a new recipe, the way Gladio laughs so deep in his tummy that it sounds unlike any other laugh Prompto had heard, Noctis’ face when he sees beans on his plate, Ignis’ ever-growing collection of fancy and bizarre shoes...

He felt that well of water stop rising, though it didn’t quite sink back down. Not great, but at least it was better than nothing.

His meditation was interrupted when the phone suddenly started buzzing again. This time when his hand shot out, he able to grab it. He hit answer before he read who it was from, but he already knew who he wanted it to be.

“Noctis? Are you all right? Where are you? Where you and Prompto still at the mall?” Ignis. He sounded...harried, strained, like he was trying to not sound stressed but wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding it. The audio through the phone was staticky, not quite perfect, but Prompto could understand Ignis well enough.

Prompto cleared his throat. “N-not Noctis, sorry. He’s…” He faltered, looking down at the figure he couldn’t quite see that was laying on his chest.

“Prompto?”

He hadn’t realised how dry his mouth was. “Yeah.”

“Is Noctis with you?”

“Yes. He’s...um, he’s with me.” He took a steadying breath, closing his eyes. “I-I think he’s bleeding? I can’t really tell, it’s—it’s really dark. But it think I felt something wet, and maybe that’s just some water, or maybe I’m the one that’s bleeding, I don’t really know. I think he’s breathing, but it’s hard to tell, and—”

“Prompto,” Ignis cut in, stern but not angry. “You’re rambling.” Before Prompto could apologize, he continued. “Are you hurt?”

“No I—I don’t think so.” He wasn’t sure. He felt like all his senses were muffled.

“Where are you in the mall?”

Prompto blinked blearily up at the darkness above him. “Under concrete.”

A pause on the other end. More gently, Ignis asked “Where _were_ you, before the explosion?”

“Uhh.” They’d gone to the arcade, the to see a movie, then...oh. “Cafeteria. Ish?”

“Good, thank you.” 

Prompto focused on the sound of Ignis breathing into the mic, the sound of the wind interrupting the silence, the knowledge that Ignis could hear him if he talked. Ignis spoke every once in a while, asking him what emotions he was feeling, and asking where in the food court they’d been. Ignis told him to think of happy memories, then sad ones, then ones that made him angry. He was glad for the distraction, even though it was hard to focus. It was helping him calm down far more than just breathing did; suddenly the space didn’t feel quite so cramped.

Like, it was still bad, of course, but the phone was like a lifeline that expanded how much space he held in his hand. He suddenly wasn’t confined to only this dark cubbie; there was a world out there still, and he was a part of it. Anything the phone could reach, Prompto could too. He wasn't so alone anymore. Plus, if the phone could reach Ignis through the rubble, then that probably meant that there wasn’t too much above him.

He ignored the breaking audio, the sign of a weak connection, and pretended things weren’t too bad.

“—pto? Prompto, can you hear me? Are you still there?”

Prompto blinked his eyes open, not realising they’d closed. He'd rested the hand holding his phone against his chest. “Iggs?” he slurred, bringing it back up to his face.

“Prompto, thank goodness.” Ignis’ voice was heavy with relief. “You went completely silent.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s...alright. You said you were next to an escalator, correct?”

“Mhm.”

“One moment, tell me if you hear this.” Prompto considered asking what, just to keep Ignis talking, but then there was the sound of Ignis covering the mic, so he just closed his eyes again.

But then Prompto thought he heard his name being called; it was distant and strange, not coming from any clear direction while also seeming to come through all the cracks at once. He startled at the sound of it, and when he heard it again, he was certain he hadn’t imagined it.

“Igni—? Ignis!” Prompto lifted his head, ignoring the dizziness, and shouted “Ignis! Hey! Over here!”

“Can you hear me?” Ignis asked through the phone.

“Yes,” Prompto said, ignoring the warble in his voice. “Yes, I—could you not hear me?”

“No,” Ignis said. “Do you have the strength to shout again?

“Yeah, I can—let me just—” He took the phone away from his face. “Ignis! Down here! Heyo! Iggy! Ig—” Noctis moved on his chest, and Prompto’s voice caught. “Noctis?” he gasped.

Noctis made a little, pained sound, then turned his face to bury it into Prompto's chest. It reminded Prompto of Noctis being woken up in the morning, hiding from the light of the windows.

“You okay buddy?” Prompto moved the phone to shine a bit of light on Noctis’ face.

“It’s too much,” Noctis whispered, and Prompto noted his squeezed eyes and a pained expression. “They’re all—screaming, so much, there’s so much pain and fear Prompto, I can’t—”

“It’s okay,” Prompto whispered, ignoring his own shaking heart and wishing Noctis couldn’t feel that too, probably both physically and magically. “Ignis is here. We’re gonna be okay.”

“They’re so scared…”

“I know, buddy. Just—focus on me, okay?” Prompto probably wasn’t much better off than anyone else, but he had a bit of hope because Ignis was there, so maybe that was something Noctis could focus on.

...Ugh, Prompto needed to stop being so selfish. He thought _he_ was scared? He had a phone and a friend. Other people were probably alone. Other people were probably _dead._ And Noctis, right here on top of him, could feel it all. He needed to do better, for Noctis.

He put the phone back to his ear. “Ignis? Are you still there?”

“Yes,” Ignis said tersely. “Did something happen? Why did you stop answering me?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, I—I’m not mad at you. I apologize, I know you’re trying.”

“I was —Noctis woke up.”

A pause. Then, after a shaky breath, Ignis said “Thank the Astrals. Is he hurt? Is he legible?”

“He was talking, complaining about how much pain everyone is in. But...” Prompto looked down to where Noctis’ head was, despite being unable to see it in the dark, since the phone was on Prompto's face at that moment and, remarkably, his magic was no longer trying to turn him into a dragon. “Hey, buddy? Noct? How’s your body feeling?”

Noctis exhaled heavily. “M’ leg hurts...bad. Headache. Uh.” He shifted a bit. “Can move my fingers.”

Prompto repeated this to Ignis, who hummed. “How does he look?”

“I can't see. Sorry.”

“That’s fine. Just so you know, emergency workers have begun removing rubble.”

Prompto’s heart skipped a beat. “Really? How long until we’re out?”

Ignis’ hesitation didn’t bode well. “It...could be a few hours. Perhaps less. I’m not certain, I apologize. They need to be careful to not disturb the supports keeping you safe. You understand that, correct?”

“Yeah,” Prompto said weakly. “Yeah, no, I get it. Okay. Yeah.”

“You’ll be okay, Prompto.”

Prompto held onto those words like a lifeline. “You’ll stay on the phone with me?”

“I’ll stay with you for as long as you need.”

Prompto closed his eyes, trying to embrace the warmth that came from hearing Ignis of all people say that. He felt Noctis relax a little as the warmth spread, and held onto the feeling even more. For both of their sakes.

He thought that Ignis shouldn’t be someplace as dangerous as this, that surely there were protocols about who could come on an emergency site like this (and he really doubted Royal Advisors were given that permission), but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. It was selfish and terrible, he knew, but he needed someone there for him, he needed _Ignis_ there to talk to. Even just having him nearby was enough. It would have to be enough.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and waited for light to break through the darkness.


	5. It Will Get Better

Ignis knew you weren't supposed to use your cell phone after a catastrophe. He knew that if everyone tried calling their loved ones at once, the emergency workers might not be able to contact people they needed to because of the cell services becoming overloaded.

He knew this, but he needed to hear his friends' voices. Damn the rest of them, he needed to know that Noctis and Prompto were okay. If Noctis died due to a domestic terrorist attack, there would be hell to pay.

When Noctis didn't answer, and Prompto's phone went straight to voicemail, Ignis was about ready to explode. He tried Noctis again, but the woman’s voice inside the cell-phone said the call couldn’t be forwarded then. So he tried again, and again, waiting for the cell services to have space for him, until Prompto answered Noctis’ phone.

Hearing Prompto’s voice helped Ignis breathe a little better. When he arrived at the mall, emergency responders were already there, and he explained to them that the Prince was somewhere in the rubble, and finding him was a priority. He was able to enter the scene with a responder as a chaperone, once they knew he could use magic to (hopefully) find the Prince—though they only allowed him to enter after he promised to help find other people afterwards. Frankly, he may have entered the scene even if they hadn’t allowed him to. He wasn’t quite thinking clearly.

Prompto had been remarkably helpful, even through the hazed way he was speaking and the slow pace of his responses. He sounded better than he could have, though, and Ignis was thankful for it. He could have not been responding at all.

_“Think of something that makes you happy,” Ignis said, and psychically felt for a wayward point of happiness among the rubble. He felt something, and went closer, but then it faded. “Are you still feeling happy?”_

_“No,” Prompto admitted, voice slurring and unclear, “I was thinking about my elementary school teacher, grade five...she was nice.”_

_He stopped, and Ignis looked around. When he didn’t finish his explanation, Ignis prompted him, ignoring his worry at the way Prompto kept on trailing off. “Why did your nice teacher make you sad?”_

_“Oh...uh, but she died a few years ago, and I just remembered that. Sorry, I’ll try to think of something happy again.”_

_While Prompto tried that, Ignis followed the feeling of concentration that had suddenly popped up, and wandered closer. West side of the cafeteria, then._

Now he knew where they were, and they were being unburied. No, not unburied. Uncovered. They weren’t dead. There’s no need to think of burials.

Well. Not for these two, anyway. Ignis looked around the scene, frowning at the extent of the damage. The cafeteria in particular was targeted, it seemed, since much of the rest of the mall was still okay. The ceiling here was high, supported by pillars that were no longer standing—likely destroyed by bombs or some other explosive device. The ceiling was glass, but there were metal beams supporting the glass, and these two factors together meant for a lot of injuries. From what Ignis saw outside, most of the injuries were only cuts and bruises, thankfully. But not everyone avoided being hit by heavy beams, and he could see some people that were still being rescued from underneath them. Others were being passed by, their bodies ignored in favour for those who were still alive. And then there were the people in not in the cafeteria itself, with its open ceiling...

Ignis looked at the collapsed stores around him. They weren’t made to catch the weight of a collapsing ceiling, and while he was relieved to see that the stores on the left side managed to withstand the added burden, the ones on the right weren’t so lucky. It looked as though some of the top stories collapsed, followed by the ones beneath them. Whoever was trapped inside the stores of the ground floor...Ignis didn’t want to think about it. It would be a while before they could be reached.

He was very lucky that Noctis and Prompto were close to the edge of the collapse. They were next to the cafeteria, and didn’t actually have too much on top of them. It wasn't perfect, of course, but it could have been much, much worse. People were using tools to cut apart the concrete and rebar to reach where Ignis could feel his friends were.

Prompto couldn’t possibly hear Ignis over the sound of it all anymore, nor could Ignis hear Prompto, but he kept the call going. His phone was still to his ear, listening for anything, even when he’d been pulled away to search for other people. He refused to hang up on Prompto until they were found and safe.

He came back to their location when he saw medics being called over.

Ignis hated thinking about how much luck was involved in their survival. Lucky that they weren’t in one of the stores, lucky that they were closer to the edge of the collapse, lucky that they were near a concrete bench.

(He would later find out that they were saved from worse injuries by from that very bench. It took the brunt of the weight that fell on them, and may have saved their lives). 

It was all too close for comfort. It was all too sudden. It was too much that Ignis wasn’t prepared for, _couldn’t_ be prepared for.

But he was there now, and he could do something about it. Something for them. It was because of the mentality that he had been thinking ahead for the worst case scenarios before he even made it back to where they were being uncovered.???

The image of Noctis and Prompto laying together under the rubble would be burned into Ignis' eyes for weeks; dirt and blood and far too little space for both of them.

Prompto blinked slowly up at them, probably unable to see past the light. Noctis was curled up on top of him—or he was as curled as he could be, given that it appeared his legs were buried beneath the rubble, his body laying at a different angle to Prompto's—his face buried into Prompto's chest.

Prompto had been radiating hope and an attempt at calm for a while now, burying the anxiety beneath it, and Ignis appreciated it—Noctis was a tight knot of pain and terror, unable to turn off his psychic senses. Prompto's mood shift had helped loosen that knot.

He also would periodically give off an energy that Ignis could only describe as "dutiful"—as if he was reminding himself that he had a duty to help his friend, or perhaps his Prince. Ignis was sure Noctis felt that too, and hoped that it filled him with pride. Ignis knew that was the dragon showing through.

"There you are," Ignis said into the phone. Prompto, who still held the phone in one hand while the other laid lightly atop Noctis' head, smiled weakly up at him. 

"Here I am," he said.

Once the last of the rubble was cut up and removed from Noctis' leg, the two were checked over by the medics. A stretcher was already being laid out to bring Noctis to an ambulance.

Apart from a few cuts and bruises, and likely a concussion, Prompto wasn't hurt. It was some sort of miracle, in Ignis' opinion. He was sent to a safe zone, where others whose lives weren't balancing on a precipice were waiting to be treated. He appeared dazed, looking about the mall like he was lost.

Ignis walked up to him, ready to thank him for helping to relieve Noctis' burden, and to tell him that he's been given permission to leave if someone took him home, when Prompto said "I want to help."

That broke Ignis' train of thought completely. "Help?"

Prompto gestured widely, looking around the mall. "The...all this. Is there something I could do? I want...I don't know. Could a dragon help lift stuff off of people?"

Ignis paused. "Prompto, I'm sorry to tell you this, but that is a terrible idea."

Prompto looked at him then. "But—"

"Prompto, it's safest to dig people out little by little. You've just experienced something traumatic, and should rest. And do you even think you could transform into a dragon purposefully right now?"

Prompto hunched a little. "I think I have enough anxiety built up right now to be able to."

"I see. Do you think your fear-induced transformation be something you could control? Or could you potentially harm people, because it wasn't purpose-induced?" Ignis hoped that the difference between those two states had been explained to Prompto already during his training.

Prompto flushed. "You really have a way of shutting down ideas, huh."

"Only bad ones." Ignis shook his head. "Prompto, these are professionals. They've been trained for this, I'm sure they're more than capable enough to handle the situation."

"I know, I just." Prompto looked away. "I...I don't know. I was the one that insisted we come to this theatre to watch a stupid movie—"

"I distinctly remember Noctis wanting to come here to see the movie here too, because it hadn't been in theatres in thirty or so years."

"Yeah, but I _told_ him about it. If I didn't, he wouldn't have wanted to watch it."

"You couldn't have known this would happen," Ignis asserted. "This wasn't your doing, nor is making it right your responsibility."

"But—Noctis pushed me down and kept me safe, when I should have been the one to help him, and—"

"Prompto." Ignis' attempts at reassurances weren't working. He seemed to be guilty over Noctis, and wanted to help in some way because of his perceived failure. Ignis supposed that made sense, given the fact Prompto was a golden dragon, and they cared deeply about friendship and loyalty. Ignis needed to change tact, bring it back around to being about Prompto's friends—about Noctis. "You can help him now."

Prompto's eyebrows drew together. "I can?"

"I'd like to humbly ask you to accompany him to the hospital."

"Aren't you going to do that?"

"I would normally, but I made an arrangement with the emergency responders which requires that I stay here."

"Oh." Prompto looked over to the ambulances, where Noctis was likely done being checked over. "I thought—I mean, I wanted to go with him, for sure, but I thought you were going to? And only one civilian is allowed in the back—or, shit, is that a rule? Or did I make that up?"

"In Insomnia, yes it's only one, unless it's a young child, in which case both parents can go. It's different in other—" Ignis cut himself off, wondering why he was rambling about something so unimportant. He needed to get his thoughts together. "I digress. Will you go with him?"

Prompto focused on Ignis again. "What are you doing to help the emergency people?"

"I'm going to search for people's psychic wavelengths, to help find survivors."

Prompto sighed. "I wish I could do that, too. I want to help people here."

"But it means I can't help him there."

"And what about Gladio? He'll be there to help Noct, right?"

"He'll be at the hospital, but he won't be with Noctis on the way there. As you are a member of the Crownsguard, if you could stay with him to keep him safe and to help keep him calm, I would be deeply thankful." Ignis put his hand on Prompto's shoulder. "And as your friend, I'd be very grateful, too."

Prompto blushed. "O-of course. It's my pleasure, honestly."

"You should go over to him before they drive him away."

"Right. Right!" Prompto seemed to collect himself, standing straighter. "Yeah, I'll go do that."

As Prompto jogged over to Noctis, Ignis stretched out his psychic waves to see how the Prince was faring. Noctis was stressed and in pain, and though it was fading due to sedatives they'd given him, it was still sharp enough to cause Ignis pain too. It was like a stabbing headache, one that Ignis needed to be careful not to send back to Noctis and create a feedback loop of pain. Ignis also took note of how close Noctis had come to transforming; he'd become very familiar with Noctis' limits over the years. If he'd shifted into a carbuncle while in a situation like this, his psychic senses would only have increased, and his pain would be even more unbearable. It was very good that Prompto had kept him _just_ calm enough that he remained human.

But as Ignis felt Noctis' feelings, he caught Prompto's too. He seemed flustered, and it seemed likely that he was blushing. Ignis smiled to himself. The medic Prompto was talking to was rather pretty, and it must have been making him shy. Some part of Ignis wished he could make Prompto feel that way.

Prompto looked back at Ignis and the feeling increased, and Ignis figured that Prompto was embarrassed that he was watching. He nodded at Prompto, who waved a little, and climbed in next to Noctis in the ambulance.

Ignis returned to the emergency worker that was escorting him, giving a quick call to the Citadel to explain that he wouldn't be making the meeting tonight, and prepared for a very long evening of finding people to uncover.


	6. Kiss it Better

Prompto already spent as much time with Noctis as he could, before the events at the mall. Although, that wasn't actually much time as either of them would have preferred—not since the busy-business of Citadel work caught up with Noctis after high school.

So the accident was actually kind of nice, because it meant Noctis no longer had to go into the Citadel to do work—even though  _ did _ still have to work. It just meant Ignis was bringing stuff to him, and that he got out of going to meetings, and it was a little less work than usual. Of course, Noctis hated not being able to walk around freely, and apparently  _ really _ hated the feeling of wearing a cast on his leg, so there were a lot of reasons that it wasn't as nice as an actual vacation would have been.

(Noctis' leg had been crushed, shattered under the weight and impact of concrete. Prompto couldn’t imagine how awful that must have been. Thankfully, through the mix of surgery and potions, it would heal. It wouldn't be perfect, but—as Gladio said—it wasn't like he wasn't already used to having leg issues.)

The urge to help Noctis had been a constant undercurrent thrumming under Prompto's skin ever since the incident. The guilt of Noctis getting hurt when he was practically fine, of not being able to do more, of forgetting that he had access to armiger potions while they were under the concrete and could have helped reduce his pain, the guilt of not doing more—it was killing him.

Ignis and Citadel doctors told him that using a potion while Noctis' leg was still being crushed could have caused more long-term damage, and lots of people had been assuring him that there wasn't much he could do, but he still felt  _ useless. _

So he threw himself into helping Noctis as much as possible,  _ now _ instead of  _ then _ . Which, if Prompto was being honest, mostly meant helping Ignis help Noctis. Helping Ignis make food, reheating said food when Noctis forgot to eat, helping Ignis clean up the place, making sure Noctis read over the reports Ignis brought him. Prompto was trying to feel like he wasn't just slowing the other man down, doing the best work he could to make up the difference between their abilities.

Because of all this, he'd also been spending more time with Ignis than ever before. It was...kind of nice, actually. They weren't the most fun of days to be spending together, what with it mostly being chores and work instead of talking and games—Prompto's favored way of befriending someone. And Noctis was always nearby, ready to complain about his leg and ruin whatever mood was blooming. But it was nice anyway.

They were cooking dinner now, while Noctis sat in the living room watching TV and fiddling with his phone. Prompto was chopping onions in the way Ignis had showed him a week ago, being very careful to do it Right, and telling Ignis about how his shifting training had been going. Meanwhile, Ignis was searing some stewing beef, readying it for the pot.

Or that's what he  _ had _ been doing. Prompto jumped a little when he felt something at his back, and turned his head to see Ignis' head over his shoulder.

"You're doing good," Ignis said, looking at the onions. "You're a quick learner."

Prompto tried to control his voice, blush rising. "Yep, quick learner, that's me! That's why they named me Prompto—I'm Mr. Quick-boy Prompto."

Ignis smiled, and Noctis groaned from the living room.

"Mr. Quick-boy Prompto?" Noctis called. " _ Really? _ What even is that."

Ignis' eyes twinkled. "I don't know, Noctis. I think the name took some  _ quick _ thinking."

Prompto grinned, lifting the knife. "He just doesn't have a sharp enough wit to appreciate it."

“He’s never been very fast on the uptake.”

“I think he missed the  _ point _ .”

Noctis groaned. “Guys, please.”

“ _ Fast _ en yourself Prompto, he’s getting feisty.”

“Well that isn’t very knife of him.”

Noctis sunk behind the couch. “I thought you guys were supposed to be taking care of me, not torturing me.”

Prompto laughed. “Sorry, Noct, it’s just funny to see the expression you make at puns.”

“You can’t even see my face through the couch right now.”

“Yeah, but I know the expression by heart.”

“Please, Noctis, we aren’t that bad. And of course we know your sour face.” Ignis stepped back towards the stove, and Prompto turned back to continue cutting onions. “It’s the exact face you make every night when you see vegetables on your plate.”

Prompto laughed, and his hand immediately slipped, cutting his finger. “Fuck!” He dropped the knife, letting it clatter to the countertop. He squeezed his finger to stop the bleeding before he got blood on the onions. It wasn’t actually too deep, but it stung from the onion juice, like  _ really _ badly. “Ah, shit.”

Ignis came over immediately, and Prompto even heard Noctis start getting up behind him. “What happened?” Noctis asked, peering through the doorway from his position on the couch.

Ignis was holding Prompto’s hand, looking at the cut. His touch shot nerves through Prompto’s hand, all the way up his arm, but not from the pain. “A minor cut, that is all, Noctis. Prompto, keep pressure on it, I’ll get bandages.”

He dropped Prompto’s hand and quickly strode away to the bathroom.

Noctis was looking at Prompto from his vantage on the couch, an amused and almost incredulous look to his eyes. “Are you seriously blushing over a little hand-holding?”

Prompto’s head shot up. “Shush!” he hissed. “He’s right there, don’t be so loud!”

Noctis shook his head. “If I didn’t know you weren’t sneaky enough for it, I’d almost guess that you cut yourself on purpose. That you’re trying to get him to fuss over you.”

Prompto’s blush deeped. “I’m not!”

Noctis rolled onto his back, draping his hand over his forehead like a fainting maiden. “Oh, mister Scientia, please take care of me! Caress me and help me feel better! Use your magic kiss to—”

“I’m about to bleed all over you if you don’t shut up.”

Noctis snorted, then smiled almost tiredly at him. “You guys are ridiculous, both of you. It’s almost exhausting to deal with.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your emotions. They, well…” Ignis came back into the room, bandages and a damp towel with him. Noctis’ smile turned fond, and he sunk down and out of Prompto’s sight again. “Something needs to be done.”

Prompto didn’t know what that meant, but since Ignis was there now he couldn't ask any more questions. Ignis dabbed Prompto's hand gently to wipe up the blood, and the stinging from the onions mostly faded. Prompto looked at Ignis as he worked, at the concentration in his eyes, felt the gentleness of his hands, and knew he was in deep. Godammit, he really was.

Prompto sighed without meaning to, and Ignis' eyes met his. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, his hands pausing.

"No," Prompto said. "I'm just...worried I got blood on the food."

"That can easily be dealt with." Ignis took the gauze and started wrapping it around Prompto's hand. "As can your cut."

"That's good. I'm not visiting the doctor for a second time this month?"

"No, your injury isn't quite that severe." Ignis finished his work, smiling down at Prompto, whose entire mind was focused on the fact that Ignis hadn't let go of his hand yet. "Better?" He asked gently.

Prompto put his other hand on Ignis'. "Yeah, better."

Noctis groaned from the living room, and Prompto suddenly remembered that he was there, abruptly pulling his hands out of Ignis'. Noctis stood up and hobbled past the kitchen doorway with his crutches.

Ignis blinked when Noctis grabbed his jacket. "And where do you think you're going? You're not allowed to be outside unaccompanied until you're more mobile—"

"Yeah, I know, which is why Gladio is waiting outside right now." Noctis struggled with putting a shoe on his good foot, gesturing away Ignis when he came over to help. "I got it. You two have  _ got _ to talk."

Ignis frowned. "Talk?"

"Yeah,  _ talk. _ I don't think you two fathom how incredibly, infuriatingly powerful your emotions are. I've woken up from naps from the sheer strength of it." He points at himself. "Me? I can't turn off my powers. I have to  _ deal _ with it  _ all the time. _ Like, it's adorable, but also incredibly annoying." He unlocks the door, points at them as he messily backs out of it, and says "Talk," before closing it promptly.

They stared at the door dumbly for a long moment before they made awkward eye contact at almost the same moment.

Prompto laughed a little, rubbing the back of his head and looking away from Ignis' inspecting eyes. "So, that was weird, right?"

"Prompto..." Ignis began, and faltered. "Prompto, may I feel your emotions right now?"

Prompto laughed but it came out almost more like a shriek. "Ha! What? Why?" He crossed his arms over his chest tightly. "Psh, that's ridiculous, why would you need to do that."

Ignis sounded hesitant. "Yes, of course, I apologize. I just—was trying to understand what emotions Noctis was talking about."

"No emotions! Totally nothing! He's just being dramatic." Prompto was not making eye contact with Ignis. He should be making eye contact with Ignis, or this would get weird. Why couldn't he make eye contact goddammit? Just do it, or he'll  _ know—  _ "Good ol' dramatic Noctis."

Ignis took a step closer and Prompto spun on his heel. "We should finish making dinner anyway, right?" he said, returning to the kitchen.

"Prompto…"

Prompto picked up the knife. "These veggies aren't going to finish cutting themselves."

"Prompto, I think I've misinterpreted some signs."

"No signs here! Just vegetables."

"Prompto." Ignis lightly touched Prompto's shoulder, turning him to face him. There was a gentle smile on Ignis' lips. "You're being ridiculous."

Prompto peered at the onions, then back at Ignis. "No, I'm being very serious. Serious is my middle name."

"You're blushing."

"Nope!" Prompto squeaked. "You're imagining things." He internally cursed his face for this betrayal.

"Prompto, I think…" Ignis ran his hand down Prompto's shoulder, down to take his hand, "I think I've misunderstood the signs very deeply." His smile faded, his eyes turning searching as he peered at Prompto's blushing face. "Unless I'm misunderstanding them now."

Prompto didn't feel ready to answer that yet. "What...signs did you pick up on before?"

Ignis clearly caught on to that bring a non-answer, but he let it go. "I always thought you were...a friendly, positive person. I thought that you smiled that much around everyone, that you were always just a little awkward.”

Prompto laughed awkwardly. “That’s probably true.”

Ignis smiled again. “I’ll...admit that became unsure at first, when you were revealed to be a dragon. There are many different types of dragons, all with different meanings attached to them. But when we learned that you were gold, it only solidified my assumption that our interactions were purely that of friends—that you were just a kind, friendly person.”

"Oh. Why did finding out I was a gold dragon make you think that?"

Ignis raised an eyebrow. “You never looked into what it meant to be a gold dragon?”

"No?” Prompto ducked his head. “Is it bad that I didn't even know what colour I was until now? I’ve only had this...ability for a few weeks, and I guess everyone else saw it, so they all assumed that someone else already told me.”

Ignis looked completely perplexed. “It’s in your file, I’m sure. Did you not look over the reports from your training sessions?”

“I...did. Just uh. Not that deeply, I guess?” Prompto pulled his hand away from Ignis to rub the back of his head. "I already know I'm a dragon, so I didn't look at what they classified me as."

Ignis blinked slowly, and Prompto figured he was probably reevaluating how stupid his friend was. “I see."

Prompto tried to move on. “What, uh, what does being gold mean though? Why did it make you think—er, know—uh—what made you see our interactions as just friendly?”

"It's a sign of fierce loyalty, of bursts of bravery to protect one's friends, of being somebody who lives their life to do things for others." Ignis turned his head. "Gold dragons are famous for protecting towns from demons in the days of old, and it's generally theorized that their hoard is actually people."

"So...you thought—"

"I thought your kindness towards me was just a sign of that loyalty."

Prompto looked away. “I mean...you’re not  _ wrong. _ I like being nice to people.”

“Yes, but I take it that you don’t blush at every compliment someone gives you, like you do with me. And you don’t jump to help people with the same enthusiasm you do with me.” As Ignis spoke, and as Prompto slowly ducked his head lower, he steadily looked more unsure. “Am I...wrong?”

Prompto shrugged helplessly. “I’m definitely more, uh, enthusiastic when it’s you. But I am kind of—that  _ is _ my personality in a nutshell. I blush a lot and I like helping people.”

Ignis’ hesitation didn't lessen. “So...am I misreading the situation?”

“No, you're fine, I’m just bad at explaining myself.” Prompto laughed awkwardly. “Noctis wouldn’t be literally storming out if I were just feeling  _ friendly _ all the time.”

“True,” Ignis agreed, getting a bit of a faraway look to his eyes. “He can be rather good at being dramatic when he wants to be, though.”

Prompto smiled crookedly. “Cor says it runs in the Lucis Caelum family.” He shook his head, smile fading. “But Ignis, I...I know how to be friends with people. I’ve always tried to be a good friend to you, since that’s what I’m good at, and I—it’s not your fault you missed the signs. I was trying to hide it.”

“Perhaps you did a good job hiding it, but perhaps I’ve...been somewhat a fool myself. I never considered that you could have had feelings for me—I tend to forget that I may be a target for anyone’s affection.”

This surprised Prompto. “What? Dude, you’re amazing. Lots of people are definitely pining after you.”

Ignis was doing a poor job of hiding his doubt. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“You—you’re like this super genius, handsome guy with a nice accent. Why wouldn’t people crush on you?” Prompto couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re not like me, some random skinny plebe who's never dated anyone and a penchant for being an idiot.”

Now it was Ignis’ turn to look offended. “You are  _ not _ just some local idiot. You have a heart of gold—quite literally—and are one of the kindest, hardest working people I’ve ever met.”

“Uh, actually that’s you you’re talking about. Also, I have to work harder  _ because _ I’m an idiot.”

“Prompto, I’m busy all the time and hardly have the time to exchange pleasantries with my peers. I imagine I come off as rather standoffish and possibly pretentious.”

“What? Not at all! They think you’re mysterious.” Prompto’s mind was spinning, trying to imagine how in the world Ignis could see himself as someone people  _ wouldn’t _ crush on. “Do you seriously believe what you’re saying?”

“Do you?”

They looked at each other steadily, summing each other up. “Huh,” Prompto said. He came to the conclusion that he was going to help Ignis see how amazing he was, no matter what. Whether they ended the day as friends, or...something else. “Anyway,” he said, trying to get back on topic, “if my whole soul says that I’m supposed to be a good friend, then just...what if I’m better at being friends than being—um.”

“It’s about loyalty and an almost overpowering desire to protect those you care about, not necessarily just being friends.” Ignis was still looking at him carefully. “I think you would be a wonderful boyfriend.”

While Prompto’s blush probably never really left, it was definitely back in full swing again. “I, uh, I think you would be, too.”

Ignis took his hand again. “So, do you want to give this a chance?”

Prompto looked at the face of the man he’d been crushing on for Six knows how long now, felt the warmth in the air and smelled the half ready food that reminded him so much of Ignis, thought of how many times he wanted to be in a situation almost exactly like this, and felt like bursting. “Can I kiss you?” he blurted.

Ignis laughed, and it was such a good sound. “How long do you think we’ve been distantly pining over each other?”

Not the answer Prompto was expecting. “Um, I don’t know. A long time, since it’s bothered Noct so much?”

“I agree. So the answer, Prompto,” Ignis tilted Prompto’s chin, leaning forwards a little, “is that I think we’re long overdue.”

Prompto answered by rising up on his toes to close the distance between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! I honestly would like to return to this world some day, explore more of Prompto actually using his powers, instead of struggling not to. I have some ideas, but will need to work on making an actual story out of them.
> 
> Thanks again to my beta [teneniel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teneniel/pseuds/Teneniel) and my artist [dragon_cat_arts](https://www.instagram.com/dragon_cat_arts/)!


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